


K'ex

by sabinelagrande



Category: Smallville
Genre: Bodyswap, Dubious Consent, Episode: s04e06 Transference, F/M, Kidnapping, Retroactive Dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-21
Updated: 2006-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Clark and Lionel hadn't regained their original bodies? How would Smallville cope?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during and after an AU version of the events of episode 406, Transference. The title is a Mayan word referring to a transfer, particularly of goods, money, souls, or names; the chapter titles are simply Mayan numbers, in sequence. Ready? Let's go.

This was it: the moment of truth. Lionel, looking out from Clark's body, dangled the body he'd inhabited for the last fifty years above the prison's dingy floor.

There was the slightest of movements from his- Clark's- arm. Lionel squeezed tighter; he sucked in a breath as the Mayan Element fell from Clark's sleeve. Time seemed to slow as he marked its progress. If Clark could complete the transfer, it would all be undone.

At the last second, the Element slipped carelessly out of Clark's hand and bounced off across the floor. The look of abject horror on Clark's face was absolutely beautiful.

Lionel studied the eyes that had been his since birth. He had seen so much through them. These eyes, these lips, this frame- he hadn't been a god, but he had enjoyed himself so. Even with this new, semi-divine state, he was going to miss it. Lionel said a silent goodbye, then crushed his old neck.


	2. Jun

It was late, but Chloe didn’t feel like going home. The next day’s Torch had already been put to bed, so she worked on dull, useful tasks- sorting the pictures from the last swim meet, sweeping out the darkroom, painting flames in nail polish on the side of the filing cabinet.

“Nice paint job, Miss Sullivan.”

Chloe nearly leapt out of her skin. Clark was standing right behind her, a little too close for comfort.

“Jesus, Clark!” she breathed. “When did you get here? How did you get in?”

“Back door was unlocked,” Lionel lied. “Janitor must have left it open.”

“If you’re here to play more mind games, I don’t have time for it,” she said, giving him her best look of steely resolve.

“I came by to apologize,” he told her, taking a deep breath and willing himself to sound young and honest. “My previous behavior was cruel, and entirely uncalled for. I have no idea what came over me.”

“That was an unusually thorough apology,” Chloe replied stiffly, slightly taken aback, “not that it wasn’t completely warranted.”

Lionel was very close to her now, close enough to touch her; but this time, she wasn’t backing away from him. “I just needed you to know,” he told her, “I meant everything I said.”

He watched the same battle play out in her eyes that he had seen before: anger, longing, hope, and the promise of regret. She was struggling to refuse him, but Lionel wasn’t about to let her win.

“Is this another game, Clark? ‘Cause I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but it isn’t normal.”

Lionel ran a finger up her neck, lifting her lips to meet his. “No games, Miss Sullivan. Just me.”

“Alright then, Mister Kent,” she responded, half-mockingly.

Now, what was Sullivan’s first name? It started with a C, not terribly common; he’d been calling her “Miss Sullivan” for so long that he’d forgotten it.

“Chloe,” Lionel breathed, trying not to laugh and hoping it wasn’t Clara or something. Before she could respond, he leaned forward and captured her lips in a harsh kiss. Chloe sighed and kissed back with force. He grasped one of her breasts, toying with her nipple, making her moan and press against him. She was more responsive than he could have hoped; so much the better.

It was short work getting them both down to their bottoms. Lionel pulled her over to the least crowded desk, dashing most of its contents to the floor. He picked Chloe up by her hips and set her on top of her desk, hiking her skirt up around her waist. One hand massaging her breast, he snaked the other down to rub at the top of the juncture between her thighs.

Chloe responded by unfastening his pants and sucking on his neck in a way that was simply shameless. He should have done this long ago, as soon as Sullivan started working for him. Oh, but then he wouldn’t have had the pleasure of this body, the remarkable, lost feeling of being young and instantly ready. The fact that he was taking her in the guise of her best friend, and not so secret object of affection, made things endlessly more entertaining.

Lionel ripped Chloe’s panties apart in one quick motion. He hadn’t intended to, but he didn’t quite care either. Wasting no time, he positioned himself against Chloe’s opening, rubbing himself up and down the length of her.

“Wait!” Chloe exclaimed suddenly, drawing back. “We can’t.”

Lionel groaned, dropping his head back. “What?”

“Protection?” she asked, as if it were obvious.

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He checked Clark’s pockets- cell phone, keys, wallet. Lionel opened the wallet. He ripped into the package and rolled the condom on, mentally thanking Clark for his predictability.

Thus prepared, he pushed her back against the desk and slid into her roughly, disregarding her slightly pained moan. Lionel thrust into her in slow, long strokes, savoring the delicious heat radiating from her. It was a true shame he couldn’t watch her face; his arm was firmly clamped over his eyes to stop him from burning the building down. It was a terribly inelegant solution, but it would have to do for the time being.

He was done sooner than he would have liked. Next time- and there was certainly going to be a next time, whether she thought so or not- would have to be much slower, really put this new body through its paces. Lionel climbed off of her, tossing the used condom into the wastepaper basket, and started pulling on bits of his scattered clothing.

Chloe shrugged her shirt back on, not looking at Clark. Contrary to her nature, she was starting to think that some things were better left uninvestigated, at least for the time being. From somewhere in her purse, her phone began ringing. Straightening her skirt, she answered.

“Hello?”

“Chloe? Thank God,” Martha gasped on the other end of the line. “I’ve been trying to reach you for ages.”

“Sorry Mrs. Kent,” she said sheepishly. “I’ve been busy at the Torch. But you’ve got me now. What is it?”

“Have you seen Clark lately?” Chloe looked to Clark, who’d been listening in over her shoulder while buttoning his shirt. He shook his head.

“No, I haven’t. Why, is it important?”

Martha took a deep breath. “Clark isn’t himself right now.”

She stood up, waving Clark away. “How do you mean?”

Martha’s words flowed out in one continuous stream of babble. “I can’t believe I’m actually serious about the words I’m saying, and it’s definitely one for that wall of yours, but Clark traded bodies with-”

There was a sickening crunch as Lionel crushed the phone into dust.

Chloe stared at him with a look of utter confusion. “What did- why did you- how did you?”

And then, suddenly, all the pieces snapped into place- Clark’s visit to the prison, his sudden, strange behavior, the odd way he kept addressing her- and a horrible wave of clarity broke over Chloe. “Lionel,” she stammered.

“You’re a very clever girl, Miss Sullivan,” Lionel told her, smirking. Chloe held her stomach, looking as though she couldn’t decide whether to run or wretch. She chose the former, but before she could get to the door, Lionel was there, barring her way.

“It seems that our friend Clark had some untapped potential that he didn’t want anyone knowing about,” he explained, casually leaning on the door frame. “Strength, speed- oh, and coincidentally, the arm thing stops this.” Chloe watched in horror as, somehow, Lionel made a stack of files on the desk next to her ignite. Smiling, Lionel reached over and beat the fire out with his bare hands.

Chloe swallowed hard in a dry throat. “Clark?” she asked, not trusting her voice.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, but I’ve had to dispose of him, along with my old body,” Lionel said lightly. “If it’s any consolation, it really was self-defense.”

Lionel caught her as her knees gave.

“Don’t worry, Miss Sullivan,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve got plans for this body that Mr. Kent never dreamed of. There might just be a place in them for you, if you play your cards right. Wouldn’t that be the story of a lifetime? Hell, you can have the whole Planet, for all I care.” Chloe stared resolutely away from him, tears streaming down her face.

“But now, a change of scenery,” he announced grandly to the empty room, tossing Chloe over his shoulder roughly. “Where does the man who can go anywhere faster than a speeding bullet go?” Lionel considered this for a moment. “For starters, Metropolis is so nice this time of year.”


	3. Ka

Lex jumped out of his chair, heart racing, as the heavy doors to his study swung open.

"Relax, it's just me," Lana said, giving him a funny look.

"Sorry," he replied, smiling at her and taking his hand off the box where he hid his pistol. "It's just been a," he swallowed, "a very long day."

Martha stood at the other side of the room, talking in a hushed voice on her cell phone. Behind her was a large television, apparently just wheeled in for something special. As she talked, Martha flipped back and forth between news channels.

"I keep getting these phone messages," Lana told him. "Martha, telling me to come here, Jason, asking me where you were, of all people. What's up?"

Lex scratched the back of his neck. "That's kind of a long story."

"Lana, do you know if something's wrong with Chloe's phone?" Martha interrupted.

"No, Mrs. Kent," she replied, now completely lost.

"I was talking to her, and the call dropped." She hit the send button. "And now it's going straight to her voicemail."

"Maybe she ran out of battery?" Lana tried, not knowing where any of this was going. Martha turned back towards the television.

"Lex, what is going on?" she demanded, looking him firmly in the eye.

He started to respond, but he was cut off by a wail from behind them. Martha was staring in horror at the television. Lana didn't understand for a moment; it was stock footage on CNN, the same stale image of Lex's father being led into jail, jacket thrown over his head. She gasped as the crawl caught her eye.

INDUSTRIALIST FOUND DEAD… LEAVENWORTH OFFICIALS SAY LUTHOR "UNPOPULAR," DEATH "UNSURPRISING"… SON LEX LUTHOR UNAVAILABLE FOR COMMENT…

"I'm so sorry," Lana said, putting a comforting hand onto his arm. She watched Lex's jaw clench. It almost looked like he was angry. He suddenly broke away from Lana, catching Martha before she collapsed and leading her to the couch. She sobbed raggedly into a pillow.

Lex pressed a button on his intercom. Suddenly the room was filled with functionaries, as if he had a whole office lying in carried in a large wreath; apparently, they were among the last to know. He ignored them for the moment, sitting down next to Martha. "Mrs. Kent," Lex said, stroking her hair with a gentleness that surprised Lana, "where is Jonathan?"

"The farm," she replied, jumping up. "I have to go, he's probably hurt, Lionel-"

Lex sat her back down. "If he's hurt, I'll send doctors to bring him here. You've had a big shock. You shouldn't be driving right now."

"Tell them to hurry," she pleaded. He nodded at a secretary behind him, who scuttled off.

None of it added up, and Lana was starting to get exasperated. "Lex, what the-"

"Wilson, take Miss Lang home," he told an imposing security guard. Lana starts to protest, but he raises a hand. "Just long enough to pack some things." He took Lana by the shoulders and stared into his eyes. "Just trust me. It's safer if you're here. I promise I'll explain everything when you get back."

She reluctantly agreed, letting Wilson lead her out.

The secretaries and security guards were dispatched one by one. There were funeral arrangements to make, statements to release, stockholders to calm. Lex couldn't imagine how hard it had been if his father had actually been dead.

He called the last employee, his security chief, over to a corner, out of Martha's hearing.

"You have the safeguard we discussed in place, Michael?"

"Every point of ingress we could find," Lex's security chief said confidently. "Doors, gates, then windows until we ran out of rock."

"Get more," Lex told him. He nodded militarily, then took his leave.

Then the room was dead again, just Lex and Martha and CNN.

Lex dropped onto the couch next to Martha, suddenly exhausted. She put her arm around him and cried into his shoulder, while the television blared on.


	4. Ox

The security guard didn't even make a sound as Lionel snapped his neck.

"I normally don't condone this sort of behavior, you understand," he told Chloe, throwing the guard into a corner, "but I can't exactly walk in and make a withdrawal."

"Save it," Chloe snapped, trying not to look at the guard's broken body.

"I apologize that you have to witness this, but you are the one who tried to run away." The vault door tore away like paper under his hands. "Would you be so kind?" he asked, handing her a sack of gold bars. The weight pulled her arms to the floor, bending her double. Sighing, he picked both of them up and sped them out of the bank.

"They're going to find us," Chloe told him as he sat her down in front of his apartment door, not quite sure who she was trying to convince.

"I expect that will happen right around the time that the Queen of Themyscira starts returning my phone calls." The door swung open, and Chloe started at the sight of the huge man on the sofa. Lionel threw the bars down next to the coffee table.

After a cursory examination, he stood, laying a packet of documents and a small briefcase on the table. "I was never here."

Lionel opened his hands in a wide gesture, shrugging. "Neither were we." With a nod, the man left.

"If you're so strong, by not just overpower him and keep the gold too?" she asked as he locked the door.

"Contacts, Miss Sullivan." He walked to the decanter on the sideboard against the wall, pouring out two glasses of the thin brown liquid. It was so like him, Chloe thought: furniture from K-Mart, solid crystal flatware. "Rob a man, and he is useful to you once. Also, you risk drawing the ire of the more powerful men who protect him." He sipped his scotch, walking back across the room to Chloe.

"Be his friend, and you can use him for life," Chloe said bitterly, taking the proffered glass. She threw back the contents, wincing at the burn.

"I have always admired your quick thinking, Miss Sullivan. Besides, a gold bar is nothing but an attractive paperweight for the," he laughed slightly, "common criminal." He sat down on the couch, perusing the documents before him. He separated them into two tacks, passing one to Chloe.

"A high school diploma?"

"Passports, drivers' licenses, birth certificates- and I've taken the liberty of moving your birthday back a few years," he told her, examining his own stack. "Everything we'll need."

"There's no 'we' here," Chloe said, her voice freezing cold.

"Correction. There's no 'me' here." He fitted the new license into Clark's wallet. "I can be to Coast City in under a minute, and I doubt if there's a jail cell even in the worst part of Gotham that can hold me. But you," here he waved a finger at her, "you are a problem."

"You could- oh, I don't know- let me go?" It was supposed to be sarcastic, but there was an edge of pleading in her voice that Chloe regretted.

"You're a witness, as well as an accessory to a rather serious crime, are you not? If you think I'm going to let you just waltz out of here, you are sadly mistaken." He took the papers back from her, adding them to his own and locking them into the sideboard. He brought the bottle back with him, refilling their glasses. Chloe downed the second glass just as quickly as the first.

"Careful," Lionel warned, but filled it again.

"If you're drugging me, I might as well get it over with," she said, sipping this time nonetheless, "and if alcohol wasn't made for a situation like this, I don't know what was."

"Do us both a favor, Miss Sullivan, and stop pretending you're not enjoying at least part of all this." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his hand lingering on her cheek for just a little too long.

She didn't flinch. "Don't expect Stockholm Syndrome to have set in on the first day." Her words were curiously lacking in anger.

"I certainly didn't hear you complaining at the Torch."

Chloe grimaced as if she'd been struck. "I wouldn't have."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Lionel replied. His voice dropped into a feral whisper. "You had been craving exactly what I gave you, Miss Sullivan. And, as I recall, you never said no."

It wouldn't be so hard, Chloe thought, if she didn't have to hear Clark's voice saying all of this. Strong fingers wiped away the tears on her cheek, strong arms wrapping tightly around her. Not Clark's, she forced herself to think. Not his lips brushing hers. It would be so much easier to make herself think that, but she would feel so much worse in the long run.

She knew it would be many sleepless nights before she understood why the name she sighed against those lips wasn't Clark's.

* * *

"Where am I?"

"You are with me, Kal-El. You are safe here."

He opened his eyes, and it seemed like all the world was made of light.


	5. Kan

The room, when Clark's eyes finally focused, was large and white. It was made of huge, rough pillars that seemed to stretch forever.

"Do not trouble yourself looking for the boundaries," a voice said behind him. "This place is merely an illusion."

Clark spun around. "Jor-El."

He was taller than he had been in the visions Clark had seen. His hair was flecked with white; instead of the young drifter Clark remembered, he was a distinguished, almost regal figure. It was his eyes, though, that startled Clark. It was so much like looking into his own. There was so much pain there, just below the surface.

"I am merely a projection of his power and will. You know that, Kal-El. You are in the caves, the ones the Kowatche people left for you." Jor-El steepled his fingers and walked toward a column, his shoes clicking softly on the floor. He touched the smooth rock, and it sprang to life. Clark watched himself throw a trembling Chloe onto some unfamiliar bed.

"It's Lionel- he's got Chloe!" Clark said, panicked. "I have to stop him."

Jor-El held up a warning hand. "The girl is strong. She will save herself." He touched the column again, cutting off the flow of images. "But you are powerless to stop the usurper."

"You're the one who put that," Clark struggled for a word, too angry to speak clearly, "thing here, and now you can't do anything to stop it?"

"The element was placed here many thousands of years before my time," Jor-El said, nonplussed. "You only exist in the form you do now because your will and your spirit are strong, Kal-El." He placed a hand on Clark's shoulder, an oddly kind gesture.

Clark knocked it away. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"There is no trick." Jor-El sighed. "With how little you respect your destiny and your race, I am not surprised that you will not accept my help."

"Wait," Clark pleaded. "You didn't tell me that you could help."

Jor-El's mouth quirked into an odd smile. "You may be powerless, Kal-El, but I am not. Like it or not, your destiny is your own." The smile faded, his jaw clenching. "I will not allow anyone to steal my son's birthright."

Clark took a deep breath. "What must I do?"

* * *

It was early morning, and a beam of sunlight was doing its best to burn Chloe's retinas out. She only knew two things: her head felt like it had been hit with a brick, and her wrist was killing her. The head she chalked up to alcohol on an empty stomach, the wrist to the handcuff securing her to the bedpost.

Lionel was long gone. She surmised that he was making more contacts; he was sure to come back soon, in any case. This might be her best chance, if only she could get the handcuffs off.

After a quick moment of self-hatred, Chloe got herself mostly upright. Bracing her feet against the top rail on the headboard, she pushed as hard as she could. It was slow going and hell on her back, but the rail eventually gave. She slipped the handcuff off the post; there was no getting it off her arm, but she could deal with it for the time being.

Her pants were still where they'd been thrown; her shirt was nowhere to be seen. With another bout of self-hatred, Chloe remembered that it was behind the chair, ripped in half. She considered the closet, but grabbed the shirt- Clark's shirt- off the chair instead.

She slipped on her shoes, and then she was gone. Chloe ran until her heart felt like it was about to burst. The area she found herself in, near a café, was totally unfamiliar, but at least there was a pay phone. Depositing the change she'd stolen off a table, she dialed the first number she thought of.

And when Martha Kent finally pulled up, she literally wept for joy.


	6. Jo

Lana stood near the wall in the garden, wishing she could fade into the earth. There were reporters everywhere; the security guard standing next to her had already batted a few of the less scrupulous ones away. She could already see the headlines: Grieving Luthor Finds Comfort With Mystery Woman.

Lex, on the other hand, was far calmer than he had any right to be. The press conference was brief, and stuck to the facts as they were supposed to be: his father was dead, LuthorCorp would continue business as usual, there was nothing to be alarmed about. He was cool and witty, and Lana was starting to envy his poise.

Inside the house, however, it was a different story. As soon as the study was clear, Lex collapsed on the couch. Lana sat down next to him, offering him a bottle of water and rubbing his shoulders.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you before all the excitement," she told him as he downed most of the bottle. "Mrs. Kent called. Chloe's home. She's staying with the Kents for now."

"Good." Lex sighed, rubbing his head. "Do you want me to have someone take you out there?"

Lana grimaced, slightly. "I actually wasn't going to go over just yet. Mrs. Kent said that she's still really shaken up."

"I'm not surprised." Lex sat the bottle down with a little more force than was necessary.

"That is, unless you want to be alone for a while."

"Of course not." He lay a hand on her knee, squeezing it gently. "I'm really grateful that you're here." Lex rose from the couch, walking over and pouring himself a drink. "I can't help but notice that you haven't said anything about Jason today."

Lana stared into the fire. "He called this morning. He said that Clark finding out about us made him have an attack of conscience."

"You didn't tell him about-"

"I didn't think it was a good idea," Lana said, cutting him off. "I told him that if he can't handle my closest friends knowing about us, then maybe he can't handle our relationship." She paused, staring ahead. "I don't know, maybe I was too harsh." Lana turned back to face Lex. "These last few days have just made me rethink what's important."

Lex looked into his scotch, avoiding her gaze. "I didn't want to have to be the one to tell you this," he said, bringing his eyes up to look at her. "My father and Jason's mother are old friends. When I was going through my father's affairs, I found out that they'd started corresponding again." He took a deep breath. "It's possible you didn't meet Jason by accident."

"But," Lana protested, bewildered, "what purpose could me being close to Jason possibly serve?"

"I'm still doing some research, but I think it has something to do with the Countess, possibly even my father's transformation." He crossed the room, sitting back down next to her. "I just didn't want you to think I was hiding anything from you."

"Thank you," she said, swallowing back tears. "Have you had any luck finding your dad?" Lana asked, avoiding the subject.

"Not much." Lex finished his drink and sat it on the table. "He's nearly impossible to track, and even if I could find him, I don't think I could get anyone close enough to stop him."

"What do you mean?"

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Clark had an allergy to meteor rocks. It seems to be the only thing that stops the superhuman effects of the transformation. The fact that it's surrounding the mansion is the only reason we're safe here."

Lana laughed slightly. "Kind of weird to be living in a house fortified against your best friend."

"That's not Clark out there," Lex said bitterly, his face clouding over. "It's not my father anymore either. That thing is a monster, and because of it, Clark is dead. I have to protect the people I really care about from that beast."

Lana covered Lex's hand with hers. "I have a feeling Clark is going to come through this somehow. For better or worse, he always does."

Impulsively, Lex drew Lana close and kissed her chastely on the cheek. "I wish I had your faith."

There was a heartrending moment where Lex thought he had made a mistake. But instead, Lana leaned forward and kissed him very gently on the lips. "You already have it." Before he could recover, she got up and walked lightly from the room.

A knock came at the French doors some moments later, breaking his reverie. He crossed the floor and flung them open.

"Special delivery, Mr. Luthor," the courier said brightly. "Special instructions not to leave it at the gate. Sign here."

Lex scribbled at the clipboard and took the small package. Ignoring the courier, he walked over and placed it almost reverently on his desk. Inside the standard packaging was a small velvet jewelry case, which was oddly heavier than it looked.

Lex lifted the ring out of it, examining the green stone. It almost seemed to flash when he moved it. As if he'd made his choice, he slid it resolutely onto his finger.

* * *

"Is it done?"

Jason sighed peevishly. "Yes, mother."

Genevieve kissed him on the cheek, petting his arm. "Such a good boy." She rapped on the glass, signalling her chauffeur to move. "Now I think you're really ready to proceed."

"Yes, mother."


	7. Wak

The kitchen of the Kents' farmhouse seemed to Chloe to be the most beautiful place on earth. She held her third cup of coffee between her hands, feeling its warmth radiate into her fingers. It wasn't that she felt safe here- she didn't- but at least she felt calmer.

There was a noise, and she jerked around. "Just me," Jonathan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm headed out to fix the tractor. Yell if you need me." She nodded mutely. He gave her the nicest smile he could muster and left the house.

Chloe felt as if she were in a state of suspended animation. She tried not to think about anything- not even the Torch, or long emails from Pete, or any of the things that usually made her happy. What she needed most was a mental break, before she had a mental breakdown.

The Kents were being terrifically nice. Her father had agreed that she could stay with them, having heard some lame story about a school project that just had to take all night; they'd even smoothed over her impromptu trip to Metropolis. She couldn't bear the thought of telling her father where she'd been and what she'd done. She hadn't told the Kents the whole story; they didn't ask, but Chloe had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Kent had more than a clue.

Her coffee cup washed and left to dry, Chloe decided to head out for the barn. It was rather masochistic of her, all things considered. Still, it comforted her to be there, as if the real Clark was going to come down from the loft any minute and tell her everything was okay.

There was an odd breeze at her back, but Chloe ignored it. There were footsteps, but still she didn't look, willing herself to believe it was Mr. Kent.

"The ancient Maya worshipped a goddess- more like an archetype, really- who some call Ixchel," his voice said behind her. "Though she is very young and beautiful, she chooses to ally herself with an elderly, rather ugly god named Pahuahtun." He was very close to her now, Chloe enough that she could feel his breath on her neck. She should have run, but she felt oddly paralyzed by the sound of his voice.

"Do you want to know why, Miss Sullivan?" he asked rhetorically, sliding one large hand over her belly. "Pahuahtun was the sky bearer, a god of the mountains and the earth." His other arm encircled her, pulling her close. "Ixchel's reasoning was simple. With him," here his hand traced lightly over her breasts and up her neck, and he tilted her face up to his, "she could have the world at her feet."

"Why did you come?" she asked him, trying not to betray her alarm.

Lionel sighed. "You were scared, so you ran. I understand, it's a perfectly normal reaction." Before she could think, he had her pinned against one of the barn's many posts, his leg pressed hard into her. "You're afraid that you want what I can give you." As if to emphasize his point, he ground into her, making her bite at her lip. "You want more than what Smallville can offer you, and I can give you everything. All I ask in return is your help, your loyalty," he smirked, looking positively predatory, "and you."

He started to lean in toward her lips. Chloe screwed her eyelids shut, her mouth opening of its own accord. Every logical bit of her screamed that she should get away, but, to her horror, she felt she would die if he didn't kiss her.

He never did. Her eyes fluttered open at the choking sound coming from his throat. Clark's face was contorted into a gruesome mask of main, and he slowly turned around. Jonathan held out a meteor rock like a shield, slowly advancing on him.

"Get away from her, you son of a bitch," he spat, barely containing his rage. Lionel couldn't respond. Jonathan struck him full in the face with the rock, knocking him to the ground. Chloe ran blindly out of the barn, unable to look back.

Suddenly, Lionel clasped his hands to his ears. It was the ringing sound, even worse than the horrible green light, seeming to be the only thing left in his world. Somehow, he mustered the strength to stumble to his feet and race out of the barn. To stop the ungodly ringing, he knew there was only one place in the world he could go.


	8. Wuk

When Lionel's legs finally let him stop running, he found himself in the Kowatche caves. Impelled by a force that seemed to come from outside himself, he placed his hand to the wall, right over one of the unintelligible symbols.

What happened next he didn't quite have words for. He seemed to be trapped in a column of light in an endless stretch of darkness.

"Lionel Luthor," a voice boomed out, sounding for all the world like the voice of God. When it spoke, the light around him seemed to tremble. "You have stolen my son's birthright."

"I know about the powers and the elements," he said, lamely. "I know everything."

"You know nothing," the voice told him, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he believed it. "You have interfered with destiny, and I will not suffer your intrusion."

"The boy would never have used his powers for any gain," Lionel rationalized. "He's weak. I'm offering you real strength. We could rule this world!"

There was the briefest pause, and Lionel entertained the wild hope that his plea had been accepted. But then the voice spoke again. "In another lifetime, Lionel Luthor, we could have been allies. You could have had everything you really wanted." An image of a laughing woman with thick, curling red hair flittered through his mind. "But you chose to trade your salvation for a mere glimpse of fleeting power."

Lionel drew his shoulders up, throwing his head back proudly. "I regret nothing."

"Then you have learned nothing."

He narrowed his eyes, clenching his hands into fists. "Whatever you're going to do, do it."

And suddenly the world went from black to white.

* * *

Chloe walked into the Kents' barn, still shaken up over her brush with Lionel. It was warm and calm, sunlight streaming through the open doors. There were footsteps from above, and her head snapped around. A figure loomed on the loft, half dream and half nightmare.

"Chloe," Clark said, so much emotion packing that one word that she was up the stairs in half a second, throwing herself into his arms. Before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing her. "I missed you," he told her when she pulled away.

"I missed you, too," she replied.

"But you're looking at me like I just revoked your press pass," Clark said, failing to hide his disappointment.

Chloe took in a deep breath, wringing her hands. "We need to talk." She sat down on the couch, motioning for him to join.

"I know that Lionel kidnapped you," he told her. "I can't really explain it, because I don't really remember much." He struggled with the words. "All I really know is that I couldn't save you, and I needed to, and it tore me up." Clark prayed that any of it made sense to her.

She took a deep breath. "It's worse than you think," she told him.

"Did he-" Clark was almost grateful when Chloe cut him off.

"I did things that weren't right, and," she lost the words, choking back tears, "I can't really wrap my head around it yet."

"I'm sorry," Clark told her, wishing he could say anything to take the sadness out of her eyes. "Whatever you did, it wasn't your fault."

"I know that," she replied, wiping her cheeks, "but that doesn't make it okay." She squeezed his hand. "I just need to breathe."

"Guess I'm just the master of bad timing today," Clark said, trying to defuse the situation. Chloe smiled.

"It's gonna be okay," she said to him, mostly to reassure herself, and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "Somehow, it's all gonna be okay."

* * *

"Lex?" Clark called as he stepped into Lex's office.

Lex snatched his revolver from its hiding place on the desk. "Whoa, calm down," Clark said nervously. "It's me, Lex."

Lex didn't respond. Instead, he raised the pistol and shot Clark calmly in the chest.


	9. Waxak

"Relax, Clark," Lex said, putting the pistol on the desk. "It's a plastic bullet. It wouldn't have killed you."

Lex walked towards him, closing the distance while Clark was still confused. As he approached, Clark could feel the tell-tale signs of the meteor rock. It glinted menacingly from the setting of the ring on Lex's left hand, and he felt as if he couldn't breathe.

Lex tore Clark's shirt open, the buttons popping onto the floor. "Not a scratch," Lex said, almost sarcastically. "It could have killed you. It probably should have killed you," he admitted, "but you haven't even got a single scratch." Lex let go of the shirt, dropping Clark roughly to the floor.

"It must be a side effect of the transformation-"

"It was never the element," Lex told him, almost conversationally. "My experts have studied the legends surrounding it intensively, and not a single one of them mentions superhuman powers."

"I'm not-" Clark tried to stammer a response. "I can't do all that stuff that Lionel-"

"Give it up, Clark," Lex told him, cutting him off. "You've always got a convenient excuse, don't you? That or everybody mysteriously loses their memory, and you're always in the middle of it all."

"First you shoot me, now I get a lecture?" Clark interjected, but Lex was intractable.

"You lied to me. All those times that unexplained things kept happening to you, they weren't unexplained at all. You've had these," Lex groped for a word, "abilities since the day I met you."

Clark took a deep breath. There was no persuading him now that he had all the evidence neatly in hand. "Lex, please, you've got to understand, if anybody knew-"

"I was your best friend, Clark! If I had known, I could have protected you!" Lex laughed bitterly. "But you never trusted me, and you never will."

Clark couldn't respond. His worst nightmare was coming true, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

"You lied to all of us," Lex told him. "You betrayed me, Clark."

"I'm sorry," Clark said, with a weary sigh.

"Get the hell out of my office," Lex said in a tight, cold voice. Clark turned his back and walked away.


End file.
